Five Candles
by Kerrison
Summary: TIVA- Continuation of the "Step Up" series. Tony & Ziva spend time together during the holidays.
1. Chapter 1

**AN**: Unbeta'd - all issues are mine.

**Sequel to "STEP UP"-- starts off right before Thanksgiving. The first chapter is quite short but stick with it and I hope I won't let you down. I love feedback and would love to hear what you all have to say!**

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Gibbs had actually taken the time to drive up to his father's house for the long-weekend. McGee and Abby were headed to his aunt's house in Norfolk; her family was too far for her to justify the drive in her gas-guzzling hearse.

Tony paced the aisles, ready for the evening to end and his long weekend of sports and gluttony to begin. Not as if he had anywhere specific to enjoy such pursuits. Just that he wanted to be anywhere other than the office.

"So. Big plans for the long weekend?" he asked, leaning against the cubicle wall. His eyes lazily flicked to the email she was typing, not able to decipher the Hebrew.

"I do not celebrate Thanksgiving, Tony," she said simply as she continued to type her letter.

"Well obviously, Zee-vah," he drawled. "It isn't celebrating _Israel's_ independence from the oppressive British Rule, is it?"

"No."

"But that doesn't mean that you can't enjoy the true American Spirit! You have been here for years, after all. The festivities begin with Thursday where you gorge yourself on entirely too much food. And then Friday, we wake up at the butt-crack-o-dawn and, in true consumerist fashion, go on a marathon shopping spree for all those Christmas presents for your loved ones!" Tony spread his heads to point to the desks surrounding them before pointing not-so-subtly back at himself.

She stopped typing and leaned back in her chair, folding her hands on her stomach and watching his antics with a wry grin.

"That would be helpful. If I celebrated Christmas. Which I do not."

Tony slid a half-frown onto his face. "The inevitable flaw to the plan."

"Tradition usually does throw a hink into the works, yes?"

"Kink," he corrected.

Ziva shrugged, grabbing her jacket and backpack before standing. "Come with me. I will show you my plans for this weekend."

Ziva never offered to include him into her private life and Tony wasn't about to look a gift-horse in the mouth. He grabbed his coat and bag, following close at her heels as they left the already darkened building for the evening.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Another brief chapter. I finished chapters 3 and 4 tonight - they're off to be beta read- trust me when I tell you they're much longer!! Reviews are MUCH loved!**

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"Here," she said, gently placing a yarmulke into his palm.

"What am I doing with this?" he asked as he dangled the silken item between his fingers.

She smirked. "You cover your head. It is a sign of respect," she said as she helped pin the yarmulke to his crown. Ziva removed the bulky scarf from around her neck, unfolding it to reveal a large prayer shawl.

"Wow. Way to multi-purpose your clothes, Ziva," Tony teased, his tone hushed in deference to the quiet synagogue foyer.

"I knew I was coming here tonight, Tony. I merely dressed accordingly."

Tony watched as she gently draped the shawl over her head and passed one end across her chest and over her shoulders to keep the fringe out of her way. She walked towards the front of the temple, kneeling before the row of candles.

He followed, though a bit more hesitant- he wasn't quite sure of the rules. The last thing he wanted to do was offend her, especially since she had asked for his company. The doors she opened to her life were few and far between; a simple faus paux could limit her willingness to include him again in the future.

Tony settled into a kneel next to her in front of the candles and watched her movements as she closed her eyes and whispered a prayer.

"We light candles," she said, her voice low. "To remember those who we have lost."

He nodded, lifting a tapered candle and touching the wick to a small votive. "I got pretty good at doing this, being raised Catholic and all." Tony glanced at her, her face half hidden behind the prayer shawl. The shadow of the fabric combined with the flicker of candles cast a beautiful glow across her features. "We light them to represent prayers."

Zivah returned her tapered candle to the holder, regarding her lit votives in front of her.

He followed suit, looking briefly at the five in front of him.

"Only five, Zivah?" Tone asked, his tone more serious than usual.

"Just five," She nodded. "Five for you?"

"Five," he agreed, turning and offering her a hand as they stood.

Neither released their hold on each other's hands as the slowly walked out of the Synagogue. Neither noticed as she did not remove her scarf from covering her head. Neither said anything when he allowed the yarmulke to remain on his head all the way to the car and the entire drive back to her apartment.


	3. Chapter 3

He shrugged his coat off, laughing as she pulled the shawl over her head and snowflakes littered the tiled entryway to her apartment.

"It is starting to really come down heavily," she said, peering out the window as they hung their coats on her coat hooks.

"I'll call a cab to get back to the office and get my car. Your little rinky dink car won't make it if it piles up any heavier," Tony teased.

The snow had started in gentle flurries on their way from the office to the temple. And, in the few quiet moments inside the temple, the skies had opened, dumping several inches of white covering onto the ground. In DC's infinite wisdom, snow plows and salting trucks wouldn't hit the roads until tomorrow morning, making driving already a dangerous activity.

"Why do you not stay for a while. Watch a movie? Perhaps it will clear up and then we can go get your car?"

It had been a while since they had a movie night. Time together had been almost nil since she had miscarried.

She had preferred her time to herself, she had said. It wasn't personal, she had said.

And why would it be? Tony hadn't been the father of the baby. Not really.

Of course, in his mind, he had already taken responsibility for her. For the baby. And the loss had hurt him deeply. Though he'd never shared that with her. How could he?

How could his pain compare in any way to hers? He had nothing to do with this child other than putting his career on the line to protect her.

_Leave it alone, DiNozzo,_ he mentally chastised himself. Dwelling on the "might have beens" never made him feel any better about the baby or his current lack of relationship with Ziva.

"A movie would be good," he agreed, watching as she pulled a box of DVD's from beside her entertainment stand. His DVD's. He had never collected them. She had never offered. They remained right where he had left them – in silent sentry until he returned – as if she had expected him to return for weekly movie night all along.

"I've got the perfect one," he said, reaching into the box and pulling out his quintessential Holiday movie.

She rolled her eyes, regarding the cover with a wary expression. "I told you I do not celebrate Christmas."

"With the exception of some really over-the-top costuming at the end, there's very little that's Christmas-y about White Christmas, Zee-vah," he said, purring in her ear.

She closed her eyes as the feeling of his warm breath on her neck. "If you insist."

"I insist," he said, turning and stepping out of her personal space and towards the kitchen. "M'lady, what do you request for your meal this evening?" he asked, teasing her lightly with airy tones.

It was their tradition. He would cook, she would set up the movie and dinnerware. His meals never left her disappointed in his culinary skills.

"I am not very hungry," she said absently, following him into the kitchen and pulling down plates and glasses.

"You haven't eaten all day," he supplied, grabbing a few ingredients from the fridge and starting a healthy pile on the counter.

"I am not hungry," Ziva said, shrugging.

Tony turned and set the rice down on the counter. "Gibbs will wait to say something until you're in the hospital. McGee is petrified of you. And Abby is just too nice. Now, me? I'm a bastard according to most of you. So I'll say it, Ziva. You look like crap. You need to eat."

Ziva turned and rested a hip against the counter, crossing her arms across her chest defiantly. She glared at him, cocking an eyebrow.

"You haven't been eating lately. You're too skinny. It doesn't look good on you."

"I never thought I would hear you say that about a woman, Tony."

He grinned, finding her desire to banter much better than the death glare he had previously been receiving. "There are many things that don't look good on women, Ziva. Granny panties are high on the list. Topping that is skin-and-bones. Its not flattering."

"I eat."

"You don't," he said, gently placing his hand on her arm, his fingers circling her wrist with room to spare. "The Ziva we know and love is this walking advertisement for stealth and muscle. And you've got curves and sensuality and..." he trailed off, his mind wandering far off track in the direction of her bedroom. He shook his head slightly as if to shake away the images of her curves. "You're thin. And I would bet that if we were to grapple, I'd be able to pin you. And we both know that's never happened before."

"Is that an offer?" she asked, laying the sultry tones on thick to her words, her body language shifting.

"Don't," he said simply. "Don't try to change the subject."

She closed her eyes and sighed, silently admitting defeat. "I am never hungry," she merely said, shrugging.

"Me neither," he admitted. "Haven't been for months." Tony gently released his hold on her arm, his thumbs tracing her skin before he let go entirely. He turned back to the cutting board and began chopping mushrooms. "Depression will do that to you."

"And what, exactly, are you depressed about?" Ziva queried, hopping up and sitting on the counter, watching him as he sliced.

"Same thing as you," he said.

Ziva remained quiet, "I do not understand that," she said, watching him put the vegetables into the roasting pan with the chicken and tossed it into the oven.

Tony wiped his hands on a towel and stood in front of her. "What don't you understand?"

"How can you be upset about it?"

He sighed. "How can I not, Ziva?"

"It wasn't yours." Three simple words that managed to cut him like a knife.

"I know," he said.

She watched him, reaching down and taking the towel from his fidgety hands and setting it next to her on the counter. "But you wanted it to be?"

_Thought I had made that pretty clear. _Tony half shrugged, not sure what to do with himself now that he didn't have the towel to toy with during their sensitive chat. "Would it have been so bad?"

"The conception? I am sure that would have been quite fun," she said with a small chuckle. "Raising a DiNozzo teenager? I think that would be bad, yes."

Tony's patented saucy grin slid into place as he registered her comment about sex before he let the moment slide away. She wouldn't get away with deferring the important topics that easily. "Watching you hurt, Ziva, hasn't been the most enjoyable experience for me," he supplied. "And besides, I was kinda attached to the little thing, anyway."

"Little thing?" she asked.

"The Baby. I didn't have a chance to come up with a fun nickname for it," he corrected. "Pumpkin. Mini-me. Falafel."

She glared. "You would not call our baby a Falafel."

Tony sighed, registering her words 'our baby' but not having any witty retort. He leaned in closer to her and settled his hand against her hip. "I've missed our movie-nights," he said, encroaching on her personal space.

"Me too."

"Are you... do you..." he stumbled over his words. "Are you ready to start doing this again?"

"Movie nights?" she asked. "Yes. I've missed them."

He nodded and tugged her off the counter in a swift move. "Go start the movie while I finish dinner."

Ziva cast a quick look over her shoulder before heading into the other room.


	4. Chapter 4

The baked vegetables had been light enough to gently line her empty stomach and the musical, White Christmas, had managed to put her in a delightfully mellow mood. Tony singing some of the words to her might have had something to do with that, as well.

She had to pry herself off the sofa, and away from his warm embrace, to use the rest room. On the way back, she adjusted the blinds on her window and peered outside.

"I do not think you'll be leaving anytime soon, Tony," Ziva said, smothering a huge yawn. "The streets are covered."

He shrugged. "Looks like I'm sleeping on the couch," he said with a wry grin.

She rolled her eyes. "I do not think so," she said and arched an eyebrow in his direction. "We have shared a bed before."

"We have," he agreed and stood in front of her, hands in his pockets. "But that was under cover."

Ziva nodded, her curls bobbing. "This time I do not have to wear that uncomfortable lingerie."

"Uncomfortable?" Tony scoffed. "That stuff was hot!"

"Actually it was quite drafty. And very uncomfortable," she walked to her bedroom, Tony following close behind.

Ziva pulled a pair of cotton yoga pants from her dresser drawer as well as a large Ohio State shirt. Tony regarded the shirt critically.

"That looks surprisingly familiar."

"It should," she said, a hint of a wink on her features. "It was yours at one point."

"You liberated it?"

"Mossad training," Ziva said with a smirk. "I will be right back. Make yourself comfortable."

His eyes tracked her to the bathroom door and, for the first time in his life, he didn't have to fight the urge to follow her in.

He knew what he would find. Beige shower curtain with small sage leaves embroidered on it. Sage towels. Beige walls. There was no mystery.

Of course that didn't mean he wasn't attracted to the form standing under the shower's spray. She definitely was top of his lust-list. But, for the first time in his life, Tony was more concerned about her welfare than his own. Rushing after her into the shower would certainly be fun, but it wouldn't ensure the long-term fun that he wanted.

Long-Term Fun. That was certainly the first time he had ever thought of anything long-term. He shook his head, clearing away the stray thoughts and pealed his sweater over his head before starting on the buttons to his Oxford shirt, belt and slacks. Absently he folded his clothes, resting them on a corner of her dresser.

"I am impressed."

The voice startled him from his thoughts and he turned. Ziva stood against the doorjamb to the bathroom, regarding him standing in his boxers, having just put his socks on the top of the pile of clothes.

"You actually folded your clothes," Ziva said.

He shrugged. "My Nonna taught me manners at a slumber party," he said, chuckling.

"Slumber party?" She queried, not at all expecting him to clarify and glad when he didn't. She stepped towards the bed and tugged a large quilt over the blankets to ward off the chill that would certainly settle in during the night. "Right or left side?"

"You prefer the right, don't you?"

Ziva shrugged. "I have lived many years without the luxury of a bed, Tony. I can sleep almost anywhere."

"You have a bed now, Zee-vah," he drawled, watching her move about in his oversized tee shirt and finding it far more attractive than any of the lingerie he had seen. _Territorial much, DiNozzo? _"You might as well enjoy it."

She shrugged. "I do not really have a preference."

Tony rolled his eyes and slid into the middle of the bed under the covers. The linens were soft against his skin and he smirked as he realized high quality sheets were one of Ziva's few guilty pleasures. _Mental not for Christma-__**Chanukah. **__Not Christmas. Chanukah. _

"DiNozzo," Ziva grumbled, folding her arms across her chest. "You need the entire bed?"

"Nope," he said, reaching up quickly and grabbing her arm. He gave a sharp pull and tugged her towards the bed.

If her father had seen her then, she would have been kicked out of Mossad. She had let her guard down.

_Never let your guard down, Zivalah, _she could hear his voice in her head.

But with Tony, she felt safe – secure. She felt as if she could be slightly less cautious. And she trusted him enough to relax in his presence.

And then he had to pull a stunt like this.

She found herself draped half across his chest, her feet dangling off the side of the bed, and her nose almost touching his.

Ziva tried everything in her power to keep from smirking when she saw the huge grin on his face.

"I finally managed to sneak one on you, Zee-vah," he crooned. "How many years has it taken and I've finally done it! It was the legendary charm of a DiNozzo in your bed!"

Ziva rolled her eyes and tried to push away from his chest but found his grip on her arms to be snug. "Let me go, Tony."

"Why?"

"Otherwise I will kill you," she growled.

"No you won't," he replied, his features having slipped from teasing to truthful. "You like me too much to kill me."

"Perhaps murder so close to the holy-days is a bad idea," she agreed, flexing her arms against his grip. "But I assure you it is not because I like you."

"Nope. Its because you love me," he teased.

She rolled here eyes and huffed. "Not at this particular moment, no."

Tony relaxed his grip on her arms but flexed his fingers against her slender limbs. "Seriously, Zi, you're too skinny."

Ziva shifted, her hair falling over her shoulder and in their faces as she did. "You have already told me that, Tony. Would you like to continue to remind me that I am repulsive? What else? My hair? It is too curly? My eyes? The wrong color?"

"Trust me, Zi," he said as he let go of his hold on her arms to gently finger the hair in question. He wrapped a curl around his finger before letting it spring back and he tucked her hair behind her ears. "There isn't a part of you I find repulsive. I am completely entranced with everything about you."

He watched as her cheeks barely tinged with a light blush.

"But I am worried about you."

"I am fine."

"See, you keep saying that but you just aren't yourself," he countered.

Ziva pulled away and sat next to him. She reached for the hairbrush she kept on the night stand and began to brush out her tresses.

He sat up and took the brush from her in a silent motion and finished the job, no knot left undefeated. Tony felt the elastic on the handle of the brush and slid it off. He gently separated the sections of her hair and worked a simple braid down her back, fastening it off with the elastic.

"I did not know you could do that," she said, reaching over her shoulder to feel the braid.

"You never asked," he dismissed, leaning behind her and putting the brush back on the night stand. He flipped the light off and lay back on the bed, this time shifting more to 'his' side of the bed.

She would never admit it - a highly trained Mossad agent never would - but the distance he put between them hurt. She immediately noticed the cool air behind her where his warm form had once been.

Ziva slid her feet under the covers and pulled the blankets over them both before resigning herself to her fate.

She was going to end up in his arms at some point during the night – if she admitted it now, they would at least both fall asleep soon and comfortably.

She set a gentle hand on his chest and opened her mouth twice before speaking. "The middle was fine, Tony."

He cast a quizzical glance at her in the moonlit room before he shifted towards the middle of the bed.

"Thank you for worrying about me."

Tony felt her slide across the sheets and rest her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close to his body in a gentle embrace.

Grinning against his chest, Ziva felt him kiss the top of her head.

"I worry about you all the time."

"You should not."

"And yet, I do," he said softly, his hand stroking her hair absently. He sighed and she felt his chest dip beneath her fingers. "I'm _so_ sorry, Zi."

She forced herself not to sob. She didn't have to ask what he was sorry about – the baby. Ziva pulled back slightly and cupped the side of his face with her fingers. "You are a _good _man," she whispered, ducking her head and caressing his lips with her own.

She tasted him, felt the planes of his lips. It was gentle and loving and honest. He loved every moment of it and tangled his hand in her hair, keeping himself from rushing her.

Ziva pulled away and settled her head back on his chest. "Goodnight, Tony," she whispered, closing her eyes.

"Night, Zi," he replied, kissing the top of her head again. He stared at the ceiling for a long while before sleep finally claimed him.


	5. Chapter 5

A sliver of light streamed in through the small space between the curtains and tickled the inside of Tony's eyelids, rousing him.

He rolled over, his arm snaking out and reaching for her warmth. Tony's eyes fluttered open when, instead of the warm sensuous skin of his partner, he found cool sheets and an empty bed.

Tony ran his hand through his hair and he sat up slowly, stifling a yawn.

The Ohio State shirt was on the foot of the bed with her stretch pants and he smirked, grabbing his shirt and pulling it over his head.

Wearing the clothes that she had taken off earlier was possibly the most intimate and sensual thing he had ever done and it didn't go unnoticed despite his still sleep-hazy state.

He padded down the hallway, reaching the living room and looking around, again scratching his head, just as a key turned in the lock.

Tony frowned as a snowy bundle, laden with many grocery bags entered the foyer muttering curses.

"Ziva?" he muttered, his voice still thick with sleep. She pushed the hood back on her parka, revealing a ski cap pulled fiercely down over her head. He was positive that if he ever told her how adorable she looked, snowflakes still on her eye lashes, she'd kill him.

"I do not think it has snowed this much in Washington since I have been here," she said, peeling her jacket off, the bags in piles by her feet.

He stared at her for a moment, unsure of what exactly was happening before he surged across the room and helped her peel off her coats. He gently tugged the cap off of her head, her curls snapping with static.

Ziva reached up and brushed a hand across her hair, feeling the strands cling to her fingers.

Tony couldn't keep the smirk off his face as he watched her try to tame her curls. "Where were you? The arctic?"

"It feels like it," she said with a shrug. "My car is burried in snow; I walked to the grocery store."

His eyes flew open. "Its five miles away."

"I know," she grumbled. "It was a pleasant walk on the way there. On the way back, with all the groceries, it was not as enjoyable."

His eyes shifted to the pile of bags upon bags at her feet, plus the backpack that she had shed before taking her coat off. He grabbed the bags and headed to the kitchen, depositing them on the counter before returning for the second load. Ziva had her arms full of bags, as well and as he brought them into the kitchen, she began to unpack the groceries on the counter.

"You should have woke me," he said, setting the last set of bags by her feet in the kitchen. Tony reached for a coffee mug and filled it with the remains of the pot she had brewed earlier that morning. "I would have helped dig the car out."

"It would not have mattered," she said, setting carrots and potatoes on the counter. "The streets are closed. There was almost fifteen inches of snow last night and the city is behind on plowing. I might have been able to get out of the parking lot, but would have been stranded in the first drift."

He tried not to spew his coffee across the kitchen – and Ziva – in shock. "Fifteen inches?"

"That is what the newspaper said. I think they were wrong. It only felt like 12 when I was walking in it."

He scoffed and smiled. Only his Ziva would think that the 3 inches made enough of a difference.

_His Ziva. Where did that come from_? Tony asked himself, topping his coffee with a bit of milk as an afterthought and continuing to watch her pull things from her various bags.

"Did you buy the whole store?" he asked, standing behind her slightly.

"I did not," she replied, grinning at him over her shoulder.

Tony watched as she reached into her backpack and pulled out a small turkey.

_What the --? _

"Ziva, why did you get a turkey?" he asked softly, setting his mug on the counter and beginning to take stock of the groceries she had already unpacked.

"It is the traditional food for your Thanksgiving, is it not?"

"Yeah. I guess."

"The taxis are not running, the metro is down, and I cannot drive you in my car. Unless you want to walk back to your apartment, you are stuck here," she said, her voice stiff and defensive. "I thought you would feel more at home if you had your traditional meal."

"You're going to make me Kung-Pao Chicken?" he asked with a chuckle.

"What?" she said, turning and glaring at him. "Is that what goes with Turkey?"

Tony smiled softly at her, barely restraining the urge to squeeze her into a tight, thankful hug. "I haven't had Turkey for Thanksgiving since I was seventeen, Ziva," he supplied. "At my parents house, mom stopped cooking when dad stopped coming to dinner. We stopped eating family-meals when I was thirteen," he paused and cleared his throat, looking away in slight embarrassment. "My traditional Thanksgiving meal is usually an order of Chinese, camped out in front of the ballgame."

"Oh."

Ziva's face was startlingly honest and Tony smiled at her before stepping forward and putting a hand gently on her shoulder. "You were going to make me Thanksgiving dinner?"

"No," she replied, shaking her head and tucking her curls behind her ear. "I was going to have you _teach _me how to make Thanksgiving dinner."

He nodded. "So you can make it next year?" he asked, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper.

"If... I suppose it would not be a bad thing to know how to make. For this year – or next year," she replied, trying to keep from admitting to any long-term plans.

"Ziva," he said gently, cupping her cheek and forcing her to meet his gaze. "Thank you."

She turned her head away, regarding the large quantities of food on her counter; it would be enough to feed her for months if she froze it. "There is a Chinese place around the corner," she said simply. "I think I saw the lights on when I walked by- they should be open."

Tony shook his head. "I don't want Chinese."

"But that is your tradition."

He nodded. "Maybe I want to start a new tradition," he said. "I'd love to have Thanksgiving with you, Ziva."

"You do not mind?" She asked.

"Mind? Why would I mind? Holidays were crap in my family- this is awesome! I get to spend time with my best friend and my partner- AND we get to have the Thanksgiving dinner I always wanted as a kid!"

"The Chinese will still be there next year, yes?" she asked, her voice filled with nervous laughter.

"No," he said, ducking his own head until he caught her eye again. "Next year we'll make Turkey again. This is the new tradition. You and me – Thanksgiving."


	6. Chapter 6

There was a small mishap with the green-bean casserole which led to the smoke detector going off and Tony promising to buy Ziva a new baking dish. Otherwise, the meal had turned out divine, if the two Thanksgiving initiates did say so themselves.

"I think I ate enough to feed a third world country," he groaned, leaning back in the sofa cushions and rolling his eyes in exaggerated fashion.

"What are we going to do with all of ... of... THIS!?" Ziva gestured to the dining table with her hand, the table top covered in baking dishes and serving plates. When the two had raided for their meal must-haves, neither had realized the large quantities that would result from their cooking frenzy. Even Tony and his culinary prowess hadn't noticed the abundance of food until they ran out of room on the counter tops.

He shrugged and stretched the length of the couch, his foot snaking behind her rear and wedging itself between the cushions. "Leave it. It'll still be there when the food-coma wears off," he said, watching her take in the chaos of her dining area with tired eyes. The early morning, long walk and hours on her feet cooking had caught up just about the same time the warm food hit her stomach.

Ziva sighed in protest. "But-"

"Leave it," he repeated, holding out a hand in her direction. Tony was mildly surprised when he felt Ziva's slender fingers close inside his own. He gently pulled her down so she settled on top of him, effectively using him as her own pillow.

He loved it.

His hand subtly stroked her back, feeling Ziva settle into a more comfortable position where she was able to see the television, her head pillowed on his chest.

"Which team are we rooting for, again?" she asked, her attention divided between the football game on her television and the very enjoyable snuggle.

"Doesn't matter – they both suck," was his only reply.

"Then why are we watching?" she asked, her eyes feeling heavy.

"Because its football. And its Thanksgiving. I will happily sacrifice my Kung-Pow Chicken, but you're not taking away my football," he teased, watching her face as she blinked rapidly, fighting the drowsy sensations sweeping over her.

"I offered you Chinese, DiNozzo," she grumbled. Through his lightweight shirt, he could feel her lashes flutter drowsily against his chest.

"Your turkey was phenomenal," he praised, pulling a blanket off the back of the couch and over the both of them. "You've ruined every future Thanksgiving for me, Ziva- if they don't have the now-famous David-Turkey, it won't be the same."

She stifled a yawn and he felt her settle her head more comfortably on his chest, reminding him of when a cat circled before laying down to nap. She was settling in for a snooze. "You will be here in the future then, yes?"

"As long as you'll have me," he said, his hands continuing to move gentle, soothing circles on her back.

Ziva's breath settled into an easy rhythm, her fingers splayed across his chest, her head snuggled comfortably under his chin.

"Ah, the wonderful world of tryptophan," he whispered, kissing the top of her head and tapping the remote, muting the sound and turning on the closed-captioning.

She could sleep as long as she wanted, as long as she stayed right where she was. He was enjoying their closeness and realized if he had to drug her with sleep-inducing-Turkey next year to get her to cuddle him, he would do it again in a heartbeat.


	7. Chapter 7

The sound of the phone vibrating against her coffee table startled them both awake. Ziva's fingers clenched against his chest, instinctively searching for her gun. Tony shifted and tightened his arm, drawing her closer in an unconscious protective move.

He groaned, reaching and grabbing his phone and glaring at the caller ID.

"Ugh," he managed to utter, flipping his phone open and putting it to his ear all while pulling Ziva against his chest and gently rubbing her back to try to lull her back to sleep.

"Hi, Ma. Happy Thanksgiving," he said, rolling his eyes at Ziva's questioning look.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Tony," Teresa DiNozzo replied.

"How's the weather in Columbus, Ma?"

Tony felt Ziva chuckle silently listening to his tone with his mother. It was the same tone he used when he was pretending to be nice to a suspect. Tolerance.

He heard his mother sigh dramatically. "A little chilly. We had two feet of snow this week."

"It snowed here last night, too," he simply supplied.

"Well it would be nice if you were here to help shovel the walk. You know your father isn't here to help me and that shovel is too heavy-"

He cut her off. "Ohio's a long drive from DC, Ma. I don't think I'd make it back in time for work on Monday."

"Oh, so your boss gave you the day off, did he?"

"Yep."

"So what are you doing for your holiday since you couldn't be bothered to come home and spend time with me?"

After over thirty years, Tony was immune to the DiNozzo guilt and rolled his eyes at his mother's manipulative ways. She hasn't been as bad prior to his parents' divorce- then she was just a loving Catholic mother with lots of Catholic guilt to go around. Now that she was alone and resentful, she made it her mission to try to either marry him off or get him to move back to Ohio to tend to her in her 'senior years.'

"I had a fantastic meal with my friend," He said, catching Ziva's eye and waggling his eyebrows.

"I didn't know you had many friends in DC, Tony," his mom grumbled before changing her voice & her tactic. "They still ask about you at the senior center here. Marjorie Lancom's daughter is divorced and wanted to know your number. Didn't you go to school with her?"

"Yes. Kindergarten."

"Oh, so you'll have lots of things to catch up on! I'll email you her number. You'll call her this weekend?"

Tony shoved his head back into the pillow and closed his eyes in silent frustration. He felt Ziva gently pat his chest with her hand. "Mom. Roberta Lancom used to eat glue in kindergarten."

"I don't think she does that anymore."

"Ma- I'm not calling her," he said firmly. It was one of the first times he could remember being firm with his mother.

"Anthony!" his mother grumbled. "Don't take that tone with me. You'll call her."

"Ma-" he was cut off from permanently damaging his already fragile relationship with his mother when one of Ziva's hands covered his mouth and the other gently tugged the phone from his fingers.

"Mrs. DiNozzo?" Ziva's voice was gentle and sweet and, surprisingly, Tony didn't sense any insincerity to it. "So nice to finally speak with you. Tony has told me so much about you."

"Who is this?"

"Ziva, ma'am."

"Hm," the older woman grumbled through the phone. "Did you cook for my Tony today?"

"Yes. We finished our dinner a few hours ago and have been watching the football game," she replied, mildly fibbing about the game. No need to ruin mom's sensibilities by telling her son had an Israeli assassin using him as a pillow for the last three hours.

"Did he eat his vegetables? He always hates the greenbeans."

Ziva smirked, sitting up and pulling away from Tony when he reached for the phone in response to her grin. "He ate his vegetables, yes. But I do not believe I am as good of a cook as you, Mrs. DiNozzo- my greenbean cassarole burned too badly. I will have to get your recipe for next year."

"Next year, hm?" the woman said before rattling off her email address to Ziva who made a mental note. "So will you be joining us for Christmas this year, Xena?"

"Ziva, ma'am," she corrected, smirking as Tony struggled to sit up against the elbow she had planted in the middle of his stomach. "I am not sure what my plans are for this year. But I will let you know. It was lovely to finally speak with you. Thank you for checking on Tony but I need to have him help me shovel the sidewalk now."

"Tell him to call me later." The older woman was silent across the line for a heartbeat. "Call me Teresa, Ziva. I think you and I are going to get to know each other soon."

Ziva flipped the phone shut and removed her restraining arm from Tony's stomach.

"What did you _just _do?" he asked, trying not to shout.

"I made your mother go away," she said simply, setting his phone back on the coffee table and taking in his panicked expression.

"But... but...Ziva!"

"You are supposed to call her later," the Israeli supplied.

Tony ran his hands through his hair in exasperation. "You told her you were cooking next year."

"That is what you said earlier, is it not?"

"Yeah, but don't you see? Now she's going to want to come _here_ and eat with us! In the same room!"

Ziva chuckled. "It gets better. She invited me to Christmas at your house in Ohio."

"Oh god," he grumbled, flopping back on the couch in defeat.

She laughed before settling back into her spot on top of him and leaning down to kiss his cheek. "Happy Thanksgiving, Tony."


	8. Chapter 8

Between packing away the left overs and watching the remainder of the football game and doing the dishes, the rest of the evening had flown by. They moved around her apartment in sync, neither feeling at all awkward with suddenly having to share their daily life with another person.

She checked her email from her laptop, sending Teresa DiNozzo a quick message thanking her again for her phone call and assuring the woman that she would make sure Tony ate his vegetables next time. She was smirking so blatantly when she hit the send that he virtually dove across the room to try to prevent the email from being sent to Ohio.

He tackled her from her chair and wrestled her away from the computer with playful tickles and grappling. Both laughed and neither put their full heart into the fight, enjoying the play for what it was.

She ended up on his chest, pinning his hands above his head, their chests heaving from the laughing and tumbling.

"Give up?" she queried and watched as he silently contemplated. She knew he could tense his thighs , buck his hips and send them both rolling, starting the game all over again. And she knew he knew it.

But Tony merely nodded and tugged his hands free & settled them on her hips, his thumbs tracing the waistband of her jeans.

"I have been here quite often in the last few hours, yes?" she said, her voice soft.

He took in her position as she half lay against him & half sat on his lap. "Does that bother you?"

"It should."

Tony felt his lips curl into a half-smile. "If you promise not to tell my partner... I actually kinda enjoy it."

"And why would you not want your partner to know this?"

"I think she's got a thing for me."

She snickered at his tone, laden with sarcasm.

"No more than you have for her, I believe."

"That could be dangerous."

Ziva leaned down, closer to his face and let her breath tickle his lips as she spoke. "It could be."

"Or ... It could be fantastic," he continued.

"It will depend," she whispered. "On what your intentions are."

"My intentions are to make her feel like she is the most beautiful, valuable woman in the world," he said, leaning up quickly to caress her lips with his own.

She closed her eyes and shifted, her lips dancing across his chin in light butterfly kisses. "You already make me feel that way."

Tony knew it to be the large admission that it was and gently sat up, taking her with him. "I'm not doing this half-way, Ziva," he said, gaging the conversation based on her reaction. She merely arched an eyebrow at him, unsure of how to respond.

He shifted, slipping away from her delicate touch and moving to his feet before pulling her not far behind him. "If you're kissing me while I say this, it totally defeats the purpose," he started, holding a gentle hand in front of her to keep her from resuming tracing his chin with her lips.

Ziva frowned slightly, crossing her arms in front of her and watching him with a skeptical gaze. "Ok."

"I'm completely out of my element here," he said, grimacing. "This is not how this usually goes for me and I don't wanna screw this up."

"I am not sure what you mean," she said, her voice sliding into cool and defensive tones.

"This!" he said, gesturing between them again. "You!! God, Ziva, I can't tell you how many nights I've dreamed about you!"

He watched as she ducked her head, trying to hide the gentle color that swept her cheeks.

"But you're also the best partner I've ever had. I don't want to lose that," he chuckled. "God knows it'd be hard, but I'd completely give up any chance of ever being with you if it meant that we could keep being partners and I could keep covering your six."

She shifted a step closer and tried to cut into his tirade. "Tony, I -"

"I don't think you realize how serious I was when I told you that I would be there for you with the baby, to help you make a family. I don't think you believed me."

"I did."

He shook his head and turned, starting to pace in frustration. "I don't think you did! You still don't get how much it sucks for me, Ziva."

"Of course I do!"

Tony stopped, turning and looking at her. "No. You know your pain. But you still can't see what I'm upset about!"

She stopped, that moment truly looking. And in a matter of seconds, she realized the times she had shoved him away, the times she had intentionally not returned his calls, the times she had ignored his knocking on her door. She saw the times she had said she was "fine" when he could see she wasn't. The distance she put between the two of them was suddenly incredibly clear.

Ziva closed her eyes against the onslaught of disappointment she felt. Her eyes watered behind her lids and she bit her lip against the sudden desire to sob. "I ... I am so sorry."

He sighed and stepped forward, tilting her chin so she was looking at him, his other hand gently cupping her shoulder. "I'm falling in love with you," he said, not quite certain where he had found the courage to make such a statement. "And I don't want to screw this up."

She sniffled, tugging her chin away and moving swiftly to bury her head in his chest as she felt him wrap his arms around her. "You won't," she muttered.

"I think its definitely a possibility," he said with a sardonic chuckle as he kissed the top of her head.

"If anything, _I _will screw it up," she replied, holding him tightly to her.

"We'll figure it out together, Zi," Tony whispered.

They stood for several minutes, wrapped in each other's arms, each enjoying the moment for what it was worth to them.

"It is late," she said, stepping away from his arms reluctantly. "Bed?"

He nodded. "You need lots of rest. Tomorrow I will take you out for your first Black-Friday shopping spree!"

"Why do I think that sounds dangerous?" she asked, taking his hand and leading him back to the bedroom.

Tony snickered. "Only for the people that get in _your _way. How many ways can you kill someone with a coat hanger?" he asked.

"Do you really want to know?"


	9. Chapter 9

Somehow they had managed to stay hand-in-hand for most of the trip around the mall. Whether it was the 'don't mess with me' glare that Ziva had permanently planted on her face or the fact that she had refused to leave her belt-knife at home, Tony wasn't sure. Either way, they had received a wide-berth by most of the manic patrons at the mall.

The place was a madhouse. And they had only walked through half of it. Tyson's Corner Mall was, admittedly, one of the largest in the region.

They had split up for just a few moments, Tony wanting to stop into a shoe store and pick up a new pair of boots and Ziva, not having the patience at the moment to fight the crowd in the store, agreeing to meet him up ahead.

With his boots on order, Tony slipped into the jewelry store immediately next door. Had Gibbs asked, he would have been forced to admit that he didn't really _need _shoes- he just needed an excuse to be alone next to the jewelery store.

He tucked his new purchase into his pocket, politely having declined a bag from the clerk, and headed back into the throngs of people.

A sea of people moved through the mall aisle ways, but somehow they surged around the dark haired beauty standing stock still in front of a display window.

The sight of her far-off look made Tony's heart catch in his throat and he slid up next to her, lacing his fingers with hers.

When he saw what had caught her eye, he shifted from her side to behind her, wrapping his arms around her firmly.

"You ok?" he whispered in her ear. He knew she wasn't ok.

"Yes," she replied with a firm nod. "I will be."

They stood a few moments longer, neither saying anything, merely enjoying the display in front of them.

Pillowed on white cotton mimicking snow, a small Christmas tree and a Menorah stood side by side. Gift boxes with baby blankets and baby clothes decorated the baby-store display. Small bibs with stars of David embroidered on the front, Christmas trees on others.

A large sign above claimed "Happiness and Love know no bounds. Give the gift of happiness this year: make a baby smile."

Tony mentally nodded at the sign- it _was _a good marketing technique. The timing for Ziva, however, wasn't the greatest.

He stepped away slightly and when she turned her head with a confused look, he reassured her with a wink. Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out the gold chain, and in one smooth move, he draped the chain around her neck, clasping it in the back.

Ziva looked down and took in the simple but elegant Star of David. This pendant, however, different from her other necklace- it was adorned with a small purple stone.

"Amethyst," he supplied as she fingered the pendant. "It would have been her birth stone."

She looked at him, her eyes somewhere between amazement and shock.

Tony half-shrugged. "This way she's close to your heart."

"When did you get to be so considerate?" she asked.

"Being in love does that to you," he said, shrugging off her compliment with a wink and a grin.

"Thank you." She leaned up, kissing his lips quickly.

Tony settled a hand on her lower back and steadied her against a suddenly jostling crowd. "Consider it an early Hanukkah present."

She merely nodded, returning to toying with the pendant absently.

"Tony," she started as they rejoined the flow of traffic, hands firmly linked against the crazed shoppers. "You lit five candles the other day."

"Yep," he said, knowing her question without her elaborating. "Ari, Jenny, Kate, Paula and the baby."

Ziva regarded him out of the corner of her eye and he sighed, knowing she wanted more information and would continue to glare silently until he supplied it. "Jenny and the baby are pretty self explanatory. Kate and Paula because they taught me it was ok to love. Ari because he brought you to me."

She tightened her fingers around his in a gentle squeeze. "Tali, Ari, Jenny, Kate and the baby," she supplied, even though he didn't ask. She knew he was curious even if he didn't admit it. "Same reasons."

"All things considered, we've been pretty lucky, huh?" he asked, his thumb tracing the back of their joined hands. "Friends that love us, good people to work with, and jobs we enjoy."

"Yes," Ziva nodded. "A good reason to celebrate Thanksgiving, I think."


End file.
